


Vulnerability

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action, Drama, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, smoothies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:42:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3961444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce's feelings for Clint keep changing with every fight the Avengers face. He worries. A lot. He worries way too much, but he can't help it. He might be falling in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulnerability

“Do I know you well enough to bitch at you?” Bruce asked, and he felt his knuckles whiten against the black chair back he was holding.

Clint looked up from the small black wood table in the common kitchen of Avengers Tower a little sluggishly, and the butterfly bandage on his forehead was like a flashing beacon that Bruce couldn’t stop looking at.

“Have you known me longer than a week?” Clint replied slowly, and he looked pointedly at Bruce’s fingers wrapped around the back of the chair.

“I’ve known you for a year.”

Clint shrugged and nodded, but then winced with it and just put his head back down on the table. “Then go for it,” he said into his arms.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Bruce snapped, and he had to let go of the chair because he felt the wood start to creak in his grip.

Clint didn’t even look up. “I was thinking the Hulk would catch me,” he said, and then he added in his muffled voice, “And he did.”

Bruce took a deep breath. He liked Clint. He liked the way Clint gave Tony shit just to wind him up, and he liked how he did it by throwing things like practical field physics in his face and making him stop and think, or the way he knew how to get Thor to talk his way through a Midgard problem without making Thor or Midgard seem stupid.

He liked the way Clint would show up at his door in the middle of the night and ask for a cup of tea like it was normal to do this at two in the morning. He liked the way Clint made Steve laugh when he was getting lost in his head the way he did sometimes, and he liked the way Clint could see Natasha wound too tight after dealing with the world and guide her either to the sparring mat or the roof, and bring her back calm and ready to handle people again.

“He caught you and then dropped you as he was running off to chew on a robot’s head,” Bruce replied slowly.

Clint looked up, and his kaleidoscope eyes were a little off from the concussion, but the frown on his face was cemented on there. “He dropped me from ten feet and I bumped my head because there was a piece of street that wasn’t supposed to be jutting out. If I’d have stayed on that building I would’ve fallen seventy feet and been a puddle of guts on the pavement right now. He saved my life.”

The Hulk saving someone’s life still sounded like someone was saying the sky was olive green like it was normal, and Bruce didn’t know how to deal with it. Trusting the Hulk was like trusting the handshake of a politician on Election Day. Stupid. “He could’ve killed you.”

“Yeah,” Clint said, and Bruce heard exhaustion seep into his gravelly voice. “But he didn’t, so fuck off.” He stood up and shoved the chair back from the table hard enough that it banged into the counter behind him. “I need a nap,” he grumbled, and then he left.

“Jarvis?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, Dr. Banner,” Jarvis replied.

“Please monitor Clint’s vitals while he sleeps. He’s got a concussion.”

“Certainly, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce had override priority when it came to medical requests for the team, and he was damned well going to use it today. He went back to his room to fix some tea.

***

Three weeks later, Bruce watched a fight from the monitors on the Quinjet, and tried not to Hulk out. Tony and Thor were handling things in the air as usual, while Steve and Natasha handled ground fighters as usual – they practice duo moves until they can do them in their sleep (sometimes Bruce watches them train to help him sleep) – and they’re taking a few hits, but they’re mostly hot knives in butter.

Clint is jumping a six foot gap between roofs.

This is after he’s already taken a hit to the ribs that looked like it should’ve floored him, and had a cut on his drawing arm that looked way too deep. He ignored a perfectly good fire escape to make the six foot jump and roll into a tight crouch on the other side and came up shooting.

Bruce could see him clenching his jaw in pain. Bruce really didn’t want to Hulk out today, so he turned the monitor off and switched to audio comms.

He and Clint had gone to a movie together the night before. It was an animated film, but not really a kid’s movie. They had split a bucket of popcorn and each had Icees. Clint mixed all three flavors into a muddy brown and had honest-to-god stuck his tongue out at Bruce when Bruce said it looked like industrial sludge.

They’d left the theater talking, and Clint talked the whole walk back to the tower. Bruce loves how Clint talks with his hands. They wave around and punctuate and guide his conversation like his words are tangible in the air, and Bruce smiled more that night than he had in weeks. Clint had invited him by saying, “You seem kinda low lately. Want to get out for a night?”

Clint could read him.

Now, Bruce listened as the fight drew to a close and Clint came over the comms with a strained, “Could I get a lift down today?” and no witty defense for why he needed a ride. Bruce slammed the button to open the jet door and grabbed his med kit, and Tony deposited a pale and shaky Clint to him a few seconds later.

Clint was clutching his side with one hand and trying to press the other against the gash on his arm. Bruce took one look at him and threw his med kit down so he could half-carry Clint up to a bench inside the jet. He retrieved his pack and when he got back, Clint’s eyes were closed and he was taking short, sharp breaths through gritted teeth.

“Clint,” Bruce started, and Clint opened one eye.

How he managed to glare with one eye was pretty impressive, Bruce thought.

“I think at least two ribs are busted and I left a pretty sizeable puddle of blood on the roof from my arm, okay? Can we skip the lecture and just patch me up enough so I don’t pass out on the way back to SHIELD medical?”

Bruce worked quietly to stop the bleeding in his arm, gave him a shot of painkillers to last him back to base, and strapped him to the bench so he wouldn’t jostle his ribs too much.

Bruce found him watching _Finding Nemo_ in the common room the next day. He was dressed in purple pajama pants and a grey t-shirt, and his hair was tousled. Bruce kind of wanted to run his hands through it, but instead he offered to make him some lunch.

Clint looked up and smiled the half-smile that made his face scrunch up in a way that really shouldn’t make Bruce’s stomach flutter like it did. “Sure, thanks. Something light, though, okay? I’m not at the top of my game.” His voice was airy, like he was trying not to breathe too deeply.

Bruce had broken a rib as a young man and still remembered the searing pain that seemed to last forever. He fixed some seasoned broth Clint could drink, and made him a strawberry smoothie and one for himself. He took it all out to the couch and sat down next to Clint to help him avoid too much motion.

“Thanks,” Clint said with a grin, and ate everything. When he was finished, Bruce tried to hide his surprise at how he twisted and shifted to get himself comfortable and leaning against Bruce’s chest.

“Do you mind?” Clint said, without actually looking at Bruce.

“No.” Bruce said, and shifted once more so he could wrap his arm around Clint and keep the strain off his ribs. Fifteen minutes later and Clint was snoring lightly with his head tipped back on Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce finished the movie and sat in silence for another forty minutes before Clint finally woke and apologized shyly before he pulled himself to his feet and left for a ‘proper nap’ in his room.

***

Bruce might’ve been feeling a little overprotective these days, and it might’ve been too obvious in their latest team meeting.

Sometimes they spent meetings laying out contingency plans in case certain cities were hit with something the Avengers needed to handle. They looked for spots they could use for containment, potential hazards if certain spots got hit, places they could move people if they needed a place for evacuation. They also picked out certain spots for fights – if they can maneuver the bad guys to these spots, they have a better game plan.

“That’s no good,” Bruce said, looking down at his schematics for the building they were looking at.

“What do you mean, it’s no good?” Clint replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Bruce tried not to get distracted by the way the Under Armor t-shirt hugged Clint’s biceps, but he had to admit that his fantasies lately had been pretty dominated by Clint’s tight, muscled body. Not that Clint would ever be interested in Bruce like that. He was a good shoulder for a nap, but he didn’t really have a fantasy-inducing body.

“Bruce?” Natasha prodded.

He looked up, trying to cover his distraction. “No, look. You put Clint there and he’s wide open. It’s too vulnerable.” He looked over at Clint, who had narrowed his eyes.

“It’s got perfect sight lines, Bruce,” Tony replied. “Look,” he said, and pointed at the display above the table.

Bruce stood and manipulated the display with his hands. “What about this point?” he said, hoping no one would comment on the obvious difference.

One thing Bruce liked about Clint, which everyone liked about Clint, was his ability to see the big picture.

“You’re fucking kidding, right?” Clint swore, standing and leaning over the table. He manipulated the display himself and pulled back the angle. “Look what happens if you put me there. I can’t see Nat anymore, and I’ll have to get a ride from Tony if I want to get back into the cover area to fight.”

Bruce stared at the display, trying to find another angle that would work to put Clint out of so much harm’s way, without being as obvious.

“You see it, Bruce,” Clint said, and he leaned into Bruce’s space. “You need to stop your bullshit protecting.”

“Clint,” Steve said, low and warning.

Clint whirled on him. “No. The first building works perfectly. Banner’s grasping at straws, but I can’t figure out for the life of me why.” He turned back to Bruce. “What are you doing, anyway?”

Bruce couldn’t stop his words. “You’re vulnerable. You’re not – “ and he caught himself before he finished, but the damage was already done.

“Vulnerable,” Clint said, and his voice was flat. “I’m not like the rest of you.” He took a deep breath and his eyes were flashing. “Screw you, Bruce. I’ll come back to this meeting when you’re willing to be smart,” he snapped, and he stormed out of the room.

Bruce looked around and was surprised to see a tiny smile in Natasha’s eyes and a full-on smirk on Tony’s. Steve just looked resigned.

“What?” Bruce asked, stepping away from the table. “I’m just trying to keep him safe.”

Tony nodded. “Maybe you ought to ask him how safe he needs to be. You could go catch him right now and ask, actually.”

Steve sat back down and nodded. “Maybe ask yourself a question or two as well, Bruce.”

They knew. He ran a hand down his face and felt his skin flush a little. “So much for subtlety, huh?” he said to Natasha, because she knew subtle, and she had probably read Bruce like a book the last few months.

She shrugged and smiled. “Sometimes he needs to be hit over the head with a brick, too. He’s probably on the roof right now. Just don’t let him throw you off of it.”

Bruce took a deep breath and nodded, and left the room to catch an elevator to the roof. When he got there, Clint was standing at the edge, looking out at the city. His black leather jacket was pulled tight around his shoulders, and he heard Bruce, but he didn’t turn around.

“You need to lay off, Bruce,” Clint said as Bruce stepped up next to him.

“I know.”

Clint looked over at him then, and his eyes were sad and he didn’t have the boyish gleam he often did. “Yeah? You know?”

Bruce nodded, and stepped a little closer. Clint ran his eyes down Bruce’s body, registering the invasion of personal space, but not protesting. Bruce took that for the opening it might be. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just hate watching you get hurt. I almost Hulked out last battle just from watching you jump the gap between those buildings.”

Clint gave him a small smile, and Bruce liked how his eyes crinkled on the edges. “You’ll have to figure out how to avoid that if –“ he stopped, and raked his eyes down Bruce’s body again, this time holding Bruce’s gaze when he got back up to his eyes.

Bruce felt his body flush with heat.

Bruce’s heart felt like it might ratchet up a notch, so he blew a breath out of pursed lips and nodded. “Yeah, I need to work on it,” he said, and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to Clint’s for a kiss. Clint didn’t even blink, just pulled Bruce close and wrapped a hand around the back of Bruce’s neck and pressed deeper into the kiss.

He tasted like wind and spearmint candy, and Bruce pulled him closer until he could feel the press of Clint’s chest against his own. Bruce ran his tongue over Clint’s lips before Clint pushed into Bruce’s mouth with his tongue. Bruce had to close his eyes, and all he could feel was Clint’s body and Clint’s lips and tongue and it was like electricity buzzing through his whole body. He pulled back with a gasp and Clint chuckled as he pressed his forehead to Bruce’s.

“That felt amazing,” he whispered, and he opened his eyes to look at Bruce, and Bruce thought maybe Clint’s eyes were the prettiest things he’d ever seen.

Bruce pulled in a shaky breath and nodded. “You’re amazing,” he said, and then with a little more force, “I’m sorry for saying you’re vulnerable. You know I only mean that I’m vulnerable when you’re jumping across rooftops.”

“You?” Clint replied, pushing back a bit so he could look more carefully at Bruce.

“Me,” Bruce said with a sheepish smile. “You can hold your own. Me? When I watch or listen to you get hurt, even a little? I gotta work on holding myself together. I’m the one who’s kinda stupidly vulnerable about it right now.”

“Huh,” Clint said, and pressed a soft kiss to Bruce’s lips and then pulled back. “I’ll bet you can do whatever you put your mind to if you really want to work on it.” His grin got a little wicked.

Bruce laughed. “Oh, I can put my mind to a lot with you.”

“Good. Now let’s go to my bedroom and start working,” Clint said, and dragged Bruce back to the elevator with a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a tumblr prompt by clint-you-dummy, who asked for Bruce trying to protect Clint, Clint getting mad, and then kisses. I liked the prompt. Thanks for reading!


End file.
